Peanut Butter
by Me and My Hag
Summary: "Crunchy peanut butter? Are you trying to make me choke on peanut chunks and die?" Blaine has to deal with Kurt's middle of the night cravings, and then has a hormonal, angry husband on his hands when he gets the wrong kind of peanut butter. Klaine Mpreg.


**A/N: Oneshot written for this prompt from KCcamera: MPREG klaine, w/ blaine having to deal with kurt's cravings and pregnancy hormones.**

**So here you have it!**

**Pairing: Klaine**

**Warning(s): a couple swear words, mpreg - don't like, don't read.**

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"Blaine, honey, wake up."

Blaine groaned and rolled away from the voice that was disturbing his peaceful sleep. "Go away, Mom."

"Blaine!" Kurt gasped. "I'm offended! I sound nothing like your mother, and I desperately hope you wouldn't get her pregnant. Now get up!"

The other occupant of the bed shoved him lightly on the shoulder, eliciting another sleepy groan from Blaine. But he knew if he ignored Kurt now he'd pay for it later. Pregnancy hormones were a bitch to deal with. He blearily opened his eyes, blinking and rubbing at them to wipe away any remnants of sleep. "Okay, Kurt," he sighed, sitting up and turning to face his husband, who already looked wide awake and very irritated. "I'm up. Now what do you need from me at," he checked the clock, "2:30 in the morning?" Panic began to bubble in his chest. "Please tell me nothing's wrong with the baby!"

"Of course not, honey," the seven months pregnant man assured. "The baby and I are both perfectly healthy."

Blaine sighed again, this time in relief. "Okay, so what do you need?"

Kurt's eyes brightened. "Peanut butter!" he proclaimed.

"Um… what?" Blaine asked, sure that he had heard wrong. There was no way his husband, pregnant or not, had woken him up in the middle of the night for peanut butter.

"I was having this dream where you were building this house, and I convinced you to put in a mote full of peanut butter, but then the mote ended up being useless because I ate all of it. And then when I woke up, I was really craving peanut butter."

Blaine took a few moments to stare in disbelief at his husband, who probably had no qualms with his explanation. "Well, why didn't you just go to the kitchen and eat some peanut butter, instead of waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me about it?"

Kurt sent his husband a fierce glare. "Don't you remember that Rachel's children came over today?"

"How in the world could I forget any of their visits?" After all, he was still sore from having to chase the little hellions around all day – why did he and Kurt want to have kids, again?

"Well it's obvious the boys get their appetite from their father, because I swear I made about twenty PB&J sandwiches."

Oh, Blaine could see where this was going. And he didn't like it one bit. "So that means…" he prompted.

"We're out of peanut butter," Kurt confirmed gravely, and it sounded like a death sentence.

"Are you sure you can't just wait till morning?" Blaine pleaded.

Kurt shook his head stubbornly. "Nope, no way. I'm not going to be able to go to sleep until I've had some peanut butter. And if I'm awake, I'll make sure you stay awake with me."

"But it's 2:30 in the goddamn morning, Kurt," Blaine whined. "You're asking me to go out in the cold and find a store that's open at this time just to find you a jar of _peanut butter_."

"And _you're_ asking me to carry your child to term and eventually get that child _out_," Kurt pointed out, crossing his arms. "I think getting some peanut butter a little late at night is the least you could do.

Blaine sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. "How long do you plan on holding that over my head?"

"Until any and all of our future kids have grown up and moved out of the house," Kurt replied with an innocent smile, inciting a groan from Blaine.

"Okay, fine, I'll get you your damn peanut butter" Blaine muttered, standing up and fumbling around for a coat and some shoes in the dark. "But you and the baby damn well better appreciate it."

"We will, I promise!" Kurt agreed eagerly, leaning forward to give Blaine a goodbye kiss on the cheek. "Love you!"

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine grumbled, leaving the warm cocoon of his bedroom and grabbing his key on his way out of the house (because there was no way he was leaving the door unlocked in the middle of the night with his heavily pregnant husband sitting, defenseless, inside). Once he stepped outside, he pulled his jacket tighter around himself; it was even colder than he'd thought it would be. _Think about Kurt,_ he commanded himself. _Think about the baby._

And so he braved the chill for a full 15 minutes before he came across the blessed warm glow of a 24-hour convenience store. A warm wave of air hits him as soon as he stepped inside, and he sighed in relief and loosened his hold on his coat. He nodded at the cashier, the only other person in the store, before starting his search.

"Peanut butter," he muttered to himself, walking up and down the snack aisles. "Where are you, peanut butter? I have a pregnant man at home who will kill me if I can't find you. Now is not the time to be difficult." Yeah, he needed to get back to sleep.

After a few minutes of searching, and growing more and more panicked with each passing minute, he finally found what he was looking for in the bread aisle (and, in retrospect, he probably should've look there first). He grabbed the first jar he saw, which just happened to be Extra Crunchy Jiff, and made his was to check-out counter, where he tiredly handed a ten to the cashier and told the man to keep the change.

The walk back home went quicker, and soon Blaine was back inside his cozy, heated apartment. "Blaine, is that you?" he heard Kurt ask from the bedroom.

"Yeah, it's me," Blaine called back, making his way through the dark to their room, which was now illuminated in yellow light. Kurt must've turned the lights on at some point, though he didn't look like he'd moved since Blaine had left.

"Did you bring the peanut butter?" Kurt asked expectantly.

Blaine produced the jar or peanut butter from the plastic bag, walking over to the bed and handing it to his husband. "Yep, right here, do you want a spoon or – is something wrong?"

Kurt was staring intently at the jar, looking like he'd just been slapped.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

"You got crunchy peanut butter," Kurt observed in a monotone voice, still staring at the jar.

"…Yeah, what's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" Kurt finally turned to face his husband, and his eyes, which had only a minute ago been bright and happy, were now filled with venom and fury. "The _problem_ is that I wanted the smooth kind!" he yelled.

"I didn't–"

"Are you trying to make me choke on peanut chunks and die so you don't have to deal with a kid?" Kurt cried. "Is that it?"

"What?" Blaine gasped. "Of course not. I–"

"Is this you're way of saying that you think I'm fat? That I'm 'chunky' now?" Kurt accused, tears running down his cheeks. "Well I'm only fat because your fucking kid is making me fat!"

"No, of course I'm not saying you're fat," Blaine rushed to assure his hormonal husband. "I didn't think–"

"No, you didn't think," Kurt snapped sourly, before his voice became watery again. "You _know_ I only like the smooth kind of peanut butter. Why would you buy chunky when you know I hate it? I'm carrying your child! Getting me smooth peanut butter is the least you can do and I'm not asking that much of you and _why do you hate me so much_?!" At this point his cries turned into outright sobs.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt, I love you so much. You're beautiful and I appreciate you and I'd never try to kill you," Blaine was rambling as he frantically pulled his coat back on. "I'll go buy you some smooth peanut butter right now, okay?"

"You'd better!" Kurt yelled. Blaine rushed out of the room and narrowly avoided the plastic container thrown at his head (Kurt's aim was getting better).

When he was back at the checkout counter of the same convenience store, this time after having carefully selected _smooth_ and _creamy_ peanut butter, he noticed the cashier giving him an odd look.

"So, you make a habit of buying jars of peanut butter at three in the morning?" the man asked.

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "Pregnant husband back home," he explained, too tired to speak in full sentences. "Wanted smooth peanut butter, not chunky. Said I was trying to kill him with peanut chunks."

The man laughed. "Oh, I know how that is. My wife had me running back and forth like a madman during her pregnancy. But trust me, your baby will worth all the late nights in the world."

Blaine gave a tired smile. "I'm sure she will." They actually had decided against finding out the gender, but Blaine was absolutely convinced it was a girl. But maybe that was just because he wanted his own little baby girl to coddle and spoil.

When he tried to hand over his money to pay again, the cashier shook his head. "It's on me."

"Really?"

"Sure. Now get going! Don't keep your husband waiting!"

"Thank you," Blaine said gratefully before taking the man's advice to heart and practically running out of the store.

"Good luck, kid!" the cashier called after him, sounding entirely too cheerful for three in the morning.

Blaine soon arrived back home and cautiously made his way back to the bedroom, which was still bathed in light. "Kurt," he called. "I got you some new peanut butter. It's extra smooth this time, I triple-checked." There was no reply. "Kurt?"

When Blaine finally entered the bedroom, he almost wanted to scream when he saw his husband sprawled out of the bed, round stomach sticking out proudly, snoring like motor engine (Kurt always denied that he snored, but he _so_ did – and that was okay; Blaine found it adorable most of the time, but at times like these…). He'd done all this work… ran out in the cold… _twice…_ for nothing.

Blaine sighed, slipped off his shoes, and dropped the bag and his coat on the floor. He was too tired to bother with being upset right now, as his body was just starting to realize he'd been awoken in the middle of the night. After turning off the light, he slumped down next to his snoring husband and cuddled into his side, making Kurt sigh cutely in his sleep. Yeah, Blaine didn't imagine he'd still have been mad even if he wasn't on the verge of collapse. With one final stroke over Kurt's protruding stomach that currently housed his son or daughter _(daughter),_ Blaine joined his husband in sleep, dreaming about new houses and peanut butter motes.

They were _so_ having peanut butter with breakfast in the morning.

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**A/N2: I hope you enjoyed!**

**To those of you who hate mpreg, please don't review telling me how wrong it is. I'm having a really, really horrible week and I just can't deal with that right now.**


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